Blank Stares
by FreakyFreak17
Summary: My alternative ending to S7: Til the Next Goodbye. This story takes place in the motel in Chicago where Jackie begins her new life towards her dream career in television. But will she be able to let go of her past in order to pursue her future?


_**Author's Note: Hello That 70's Show fans... Like many of you, I also disliked Season 8 to the point that I render it nonexistent in my head, my main reason being the demise of my favorite couple's relationship. The only way I could soothe my disappointment was by writing an alternative ending, and so I present to you my first ever T7S fanfiction**__**. I know that a full-blown drama might be too heavy for such a great sitcom, but this is what this is. It's only one chapter, I hope you enjoy it.**_

* * *

**Blank Stares**

It was a quiet walk across the parking lot. Jackie's heels clicked against the concrete as she made her way towards the row of dim yellow lights yards before her – the windows of the motel rooms gleaming with interior light. It had been a long day and she was glad that she was home…if she could call it that.

As she walked, the silence of the evening consumed her and she found herself thinking of Point Place. In just a few strides, a train of thoughts ran through her head. She thought of Eric and guessed that, at this very moment, he must be packing for Africa. She inwardly laughed at the thought of his skinny frame running through wild safaris, but soon found herself sincerely and lovingly wishing for his best. She thought of Donna and wondered how she must be coping with Eric's coming departure. She could easily imagine her face as she strongly kept it straight, with only eyes betraying the pain. How heartbroken she must be… Suddenly Jackie wished that she could come visit. They could have a sleepover, and she could give Donna a makeover while they talk about their broken hearts. She thought of Fez and Michael and wondered what they must be doing right now. Probably playing with firecrackers or something. For a moment, she thought she could actually hear Fez' delightful accent and Michael's gleeful, boisterous scream as they revel in their idiotic stunts. She thought of Mrs. Forman's laugh and remembered the last pie she baked. She recalled of Mr. Foreman's anti-social grunts and somehow felt a sense of home at the mental sound it. She thought of – and stopped there.

She paused for a moment.

_Focus, Jackie, _she said to herself, _think of something else._

She presumed walking, and as intended, she thought of other things. She thought of her day at the studio, of the paperwork she dealt with and the tedious tasks. She thought of the bitchy TV personalities and the obnoxious members among the crew. She thought of how many cups of coffee she had to carry around, and how many more will come along the way in her pursuit of her future career in television… It's okay, she thought. This is her dream. She's on her way.

The rest of the walk to the motel room was somehow quieter now that her mind had subsided, though somehow she felt uneasy. A small knot formed between her pretty, groomed eyebrows at the effort of repressing that particular thought towards the back of her mind. She had managed to push it away, but she knew it was there. There in the back of her mind – beyond Eric's trip, Donna's tears, Michael and Fez' firecrackers, and the Foremans' home – sat the one person she desperately insisted on forgetting. There he sat in his old chair in the basement, body sunken in, arms crossed as always, and aviators dimmer than ever. There he stayed in the back of her mind.

Finally, she made it to her door, just one among the many down the hallway, each one identical in its dull shade of pink that reminded her of chewed up bubblegum. Placing her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. There was nothing on the other side but a mass chaos of open suitcases, clothes strewn across the floor, cosmetics scattered across the vanity, and a cold, lumpy bed. Tears seeped a little through her designer mascara. But this is her dream, she reminded herself, and reached into her purse for her keys.

There was no sound, or any sign for that matter, that had caused her to look up. She simply did…as if she knew perfectly well that he had been standing there. The first thing she saw was the tip of the joint burning faintly in the dark. As her eyes adjusted to the shadows, she was eventually able to make out his aviators (it never occurred to her to wonder why he wore them even at night), the outline of his curly hair, and eventually his Camaro which he leaned on.

"Is this really a good time to do that?" She said after a moment of shocked silence, eyeing the joint in his hand. It was all she could say. Somehow she couldn't express her shock in any other way.

"If you hadn't taken so long, I would've shared," He said blankly. Sarcasm: he was too good at it.

There was silence. Her hand was still on the doorknob, but she didn't turn it. The smoke from his joint rose dancing into the air, but he didn't take a single toke. As the tiny little spec of light burned in his hand, they stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"What are you doing here?" She finally said.

"Oh, you know…" He said, snapping out of the trance and finally taking a drag, "Had some free time. Thought I'd check out Chicago. I hear their stuff is great. Figured you could hook me up."

Again with the sarcasm.

"Steven…" She said tiredly.

He didn't make an attempt to explain himself and instead continued to stare blankly. She couldn't see his eyes, but the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly – a tendency of his whenever he delighted in someone's frustration. Subtle as it was, she was the only one who ever noticed it, and she imagined it must be because nobody else paid as much attention to him as she did. Either that, or he was simply amused more often around her. After all, he's quite capable of getting under her skin. Just as capable as she is of getting under his.

"How was work?" He asked after a beat.

"Good," she nodded.

"On your way to stardom, huh?"

"Not really. Other than a few seconds on air, it's mostly just bringing the producers their coffee. But they say if I keep up the good work, I might have my own little segment eventually."

Staring at the ground, he nodded in quiet approval. Another silence followed and she began to wonder whether or not she should just go ahead and turn the knob. What would happen after that, she didn't know. Whether or not she'll be alone in her room that night was beyond her. Even in her mind, it seemed impossible to escape the present though it was nothing but a dead silence tainted with a hint of awkwardness and tension.

Just as she was about to decide, he spoke.

"Listen, uh… You wanna go for a drive or something?"

His head was turned away, though there was nothing to see but the rest of the half-empty parking lot. The hand that was free of the joint dug deeply into his pockets and his shoulders shrugged uncomfortably without him knowing it. Watching him struggle, she was both perplexed and amused. For the first time in days, she smiled a smile that was neither for camera work nor social courtesy. As if sensing it, he turned back to her and the air of uneasiness lifted from him. His mouth eased back into its neutral pout and his stare steadied once again. She took her hand off the doorknob.

* * *

The place reminded her of the Reservoir back home. Same trees, same lake, same parking lot… Even the way the moonlight gleamed in the water invoked an extremely similar feeling, as did the silent chorus of the evening around them. The only thing missing was the sound of groping and sloppy kisses from other teenagers' cars. Here, they were all alone. Other than the distant bustle of the city across the lake, the only sound that accompanied them was Todd Rundgren singing faintly from the car radio.

It was like their first date all over again.

Sitting on the trunk of his Camaro, they hadn't talked for thirty minutes. Every now and then, he took a sip of his soda or drummed his hands against the car beneath him, but for the most part, he just sat there, hunching, staring straight ahead. The silence was so maddeningly sweet that it was soothing. In her mind, she went crazy wondering what he was thinking, but something about simply being next to him consumed her so that she didn't feel the need to say a word. Like him, she just sat there and stared ahead.

So much had happened in the last two years. It was as if seasons had passed within a lapse of time. In two years, she had fallen in and out of love with Michael Kelso, lost her virginity, smoked for the first time, graduated, lost her father, lost her mother… She had gotten her first job and suffered the miserable turmoil of earning a paycheck by herself – and she had learned to appreciate it. She had abandoned her old high school clique of bitchy, stuck up cheerleaders, and found solace in a group of misfits: a tomboy, a nerd, a doofus, a foreign kid, and a ruffian – the very one who sits next to her at this moment. His scruffiness, once an object of her disgust, was now a delight as she recalled running her hands through his hair or feeling his rugged jaw against her cheek. His Led Zepplin shirt, which she had thought so tasteless and drab, now embraced her almost every night in bed. His sarcasm, his harshness, his stubborn determination to hide behind his walls – all were now her home. Silently, he was the only one who understood her when she, like himself, was abandoned by her parents. And when she found herself in an empty home, he broke down his walls so she could crawl onto his cot with him, into his arms, protected by his embrace in the darkness of the Foremans' basement…

Two years ago, Jackie Burkhart never would have imagined that she would fall in love with Steven Hyde, let alone love him so much that she would break her own heart for his refusal to spend the rest of his life with her. And now, remembering what had gone on for the last few months, she was fuming with anger. She glared at him, at the heartless way that he blankly stared ahead and ignored her presence, at the way he kept his secrets to himself rather than share them with her like the way he used to.

"Steven, what are you _really_ doing here?" She said with repressing calmness.

He turned to her. One of his eyebrows rose out of habit but still he refused to speak.

"Well?" She demanded.

More staring, then he shrugged his shoulders.

That did it. That was the last she could handle. Tired of his silence and his aloofness, she slipped off the car and made her way towards the passenger door.

"Take me back to the motel," she ordered.

"Jackie, come on," he laughed slightly, though there was a hint of begging in his voice.

Once again her hand was on a door, leaving her halfway between a decision to stay or go. Like earlier that evening, they were caught in an eternal moment of staring, only this time it felt heavier with palpable pain on both sides. He stared, waiting patiently and hopefully that she would return to his side. She stared back, fuming at his heartless privacy. She refused to give in to his stubbornness, and she wasn't going to let go of the door handle unless she got her answers.

"Why are you here?" She said angrily, "I thought you said you didn't want to be with me, so why?"

"Jackie, I never said I didn't want to be with you…"

"Yes you did! You said it when you wouldn't promise me that we have a future, even though I was willing to sacrifice my dream for it. _That's_ why I left. And now you're here, and I don't understand why because you refused_ our_ future. So now I'm living _mine_. Why are you trying to ruin it?"

"I'm not trying to ruin anything. I want you to be here. I want this for you."

"Then WHY?! _Why _are you here?! Do you have any idea how miserable I've been? I've been all alone out here for the past few days, and I'm supposed to be enjoying my new life but I can't because all I could think about is how easy it was for you to let me go!"

She waited for a response, but he didn't give one. He simply stared…

"Stop staring at me and SAY SOMETHING!"

For a moment, there was a threat that only more silence would follow and Jackie was ready to pull the door open. But just in time, Hyde spoke with surprising honesty.

"It wasn't easy."

She was stunned by his response, but she didn't show it. Still fuming, she waited for more but it seemed that there was nothing else to be expected. His uncharacteristic vulnerability lasted mere seconds before he reverted back to his casual tone.

"I wanted to see you, alright? Now could you just sit back down and enjoy this evening with me? Please?"

The last thing she wanted at that moment was to let go of the door handle. But she did. Slowly she made her way back to his side, feeling both angry and glad as she sat down.

"I hate you," she muttered. Hard as she tried to mean it, she couldn't, making it sound more like a flat joke.

"I know," he responded in the same way.

The silence resumed and she accepted it in defeated exhaustion. Eventually she calmed down enough to stop fuming, but she still simmered at having to deal with his stubborn silence. For that, she genuinely hated him.

But then he spoke.

"Look, Jackie… I know you wanted to get married. But I've thought about it, and I'm just not ready. I wish I could be what you want me to be, but I'm not, okay? So just accept that."

Even in his attempt to be honest, there was a still harshness to his tone and it added to the pain of what he was saying. She didn't need to be reminded of it, she already knew. But she was too tired, too exhausted to say anything else.

"Alright," she said coldly.

"Okay," He sighed. And the silence went on.

Jackie was trembling inside. She felt as if her eyes were welling with tears, but she wasn't sure if there were any left to cry. And so, she trembled. She trembled at the thought of her lonely motel room, with its peeling wallpaper and cheap television set. She trembled at the thought of her job at the studio, which had lost its appeal and ambition after knowing that he too wanted her there. She trembled at _her_ future, and _hers_ alone, at all the bright lights and glamorous clothes that meant nothing because he wouldn't be there with her. She trembled at the person next to her, who managed to make her feel as if she were on the other side of the world even though they were mere inches apart. She trembled at her own desire to run away from him, and even more at the stronger desire to stay there beside him forever. She trembled on…

"Jackie," he called.

She neither said a word nor turned her head. In the corner of her eye, she saw a tiny speck glinting near her in the dark – another joint he lit, that he held in his cold, casual manner.

"Jackie," he called again, more persistently this time.

Still, she stared straight ahead and said nothing. It was her turn to be cold now.

"JACKIE," he said once more.

"_What?_" She said scathingly, staring into his aviators and resenting the eyes hidden behind them.

He didn't stay anything but stared back, with the corners of his mouth curling up again. She felt her loving hatred for him burning deeper.

"Steven, what _is it_?!"

"Jackie…!" He said, frustrated.

Confusion overtook some of her deep annoyance as it became clear that she was missing something. Though he stared his usual stare, she noticed that it wasn't blank. Something about it was…expectant. Suddenly, her eyes turned to the joint he held in his hand only to realize that it wasn't a joint at all. Nor was the tiny gleam a dim burning orange that a joint would have, but rather a gentle blue twinkling like a star…or a diamond ring.

Jackie was stunned silent. There was no way that this could be real, but nevertheless, her fuming escaped her and was replaced by anxious gasps. There it was – a diamond ring in a small box, in Steven's very own hand. It wasn't the three-carat ring that she had dreamed of as a young girl, when she still believed that she would get engaged with Michael Kelso on horseback during sunset at a beach. It was just a simple ring, in a simple box, and it was in Steven's simple hands.

She didn't know what to say. She trembled wildly, but no longer in pain but in shock and immense fear of doubt. She looked at Steven, hoping to find an answer to all the questions that were exploding in her head and in her chest. She feared another blank stare, but only found his honest eyes. He was still silent, but she no longer needed him to say a word. His stare, sincerer than she'd ever seen it, said everything.

"Maybe not now," He whispered gently, "But someday I'll be ready."

Her heart pulsed wildly. Somewhere in her system, she found tears that she thought were gone and they flowed through her eyes so strongly that they shed over her wide smile.

And in that single moment, they stared at each other for an eternity.


End file.
